Mauprat eBook

XXII

How shall I describe to you what I felt at the unexpected
sight of Gazeau Tower? I had seen it but twice
in my life; each time I had taken part in a painfully
stirring scene there. Yet these scenes were as
naught beside the one awaiting me on this third encounter;
there must be a curse on certain places.

I fancied I could still see the blood of the two Mauprats
sprinkled on the shattered door. Their life of
crime and their tragic end made me shudder at the
violent instincts which I felt in myself. I was
filled with a horror of my own feelings, and I understood
why Edmee did not love me. But, as if yonder
deplorable blood had power to stir a fatal sympathy,
I felt the wild strength of my passion increasing in
proportion as my will made greater efforts to subdue
it. I had trampled down all other passions; scarcely
a trace of them remained in me. I was sober;
if not gentle and patient, I was at least capable of
affection and sympathy; I had a profound sense of
the laws of honour, and the highest respect for the
dignity of others. Love, however, was still the
most formidable of my enemies; for it was inseparably
connected with all that I had acquired of morality
and delicacy; it was the tie that bound the old man
to the new, an indissoluble tie, which made it almost
impossible for me to find the golden mean between reason
and passion.

Standing before Edmee, who was about to leave me behind
and on foot; furious at seeing her escape me for the
last time (since after the insult I had just offered
her she would doubtless never run the risk of being
alone with me again), I gazed on her with a terrible
expression. I was livid; my fists were clinched.
I had but to resolve, and the slightest exertion of
my strength would have snatched her from her horse,
thrown her to the ground and left her at the mercy
of my desires. I had but to let my old savage
instincts reign for a second and I could have slaked,
extinguished the fires which had been consuming me
for seven years. Never did Edmee know the danger
her honour ran in that minute of agony, and never
have I ceased to feel remorse for it; but God alone
shall be my Judge, for I triumphed, and this was the
last evil thought of my life. In this thought,
moreover, lay the whole of my crime; the rest was
the work of fate.

Filled with fear, I suddenly turned my back on her
and, wringing my hands in despair, hastened away by
the path which had brought me thither. I cared
little where I went; I only knew that I had to tear
myself away from perilous temptations. It was
a broiling day; the odour of the woods seemed intoxicating;
the mere sight of them was stirring up the instincts
of my old savage life; I had to flee or fall.
With an imperious gesture, Edmee ordered me to depart
from her presence. The idea that any danger could
possibly threaten her except from myself naturally
did not come into my head or her own. I plunged